Home of Mickey Minner

CHAPTER ONE

Standing atop a stone buttress, dirty, exhausted and bloodied warriors watch as a body is pushed unceremoniously over the edge of the high precipice.

“Is that the last?” a warrior wearing the sash of command asks.

“Yes.”

“Then it is done.” The commander raises his bloody sword high above his head. ”May the flag of Arhdahl reign over our land until the sun sinks in the north never to rise again.”

The other warriors raise their swords to the sun and add their voices to the oath, “Aye. Long live the Realm of Arhdahl.”

The rattling of bones is heard behind the men and they turn away from the ledge to see an old woman shaking a carved cup in her deformed hand. She tosses the cup’s contents onto the stone surface at their feet.

“What do the bones say, Crone?”

Long, twisted fingers sort out the bones, reverently touching each one, noting their positions yet not moving them. “The House of Arhdahl will fall.”

“That cannot be.”

“It is told. A new order with ancient wisdom will once again rule.”

“Our enemies are defeated. Who survives to threaten Arhdahl?”

“A child will be born.”

“What child?”

The woman’s fingers again seek out the bones then she looks up with unseeing eyes. “The bones will tell.”

“Send messengers to every corner of the Realm. From this day forward, all women ready to bear a child must travel to Arhdahl Fortress. The Crone will toss the bones when each child cries their first.”

The woman gathers up the bones, placing them back into her cup.

Many generations later...

Deep inside the Arhdahl Fortress, a newborn child is placed on the scarred surface of a heavy oak table. The walls of the room are stone, as is the floor. There is but one passage into the room and no windows. The dark is broken by an eerie glow, candle flames flicker unsteadily from dozens of small niches carved into the stone walls.

A man, wearing the richly designed clothing of a ruler, stands on one side of the table. He is flanked by a man similarly dressed. He looks at the baby then across to the woman standing opposite him, nodding a silent command.

Gnarled fingers hold a wooden cup, shaking it. The cup is lowered to the surface of a table, its contents spilling out onto the wooden surface. The child lies quietly beside the scattered pieces of bone, its tiny body enveloped in a blanket.

“What do the bones reveal, Crone?”

The aged seer bends over the table, her fingers tracing the pattern of the sacred objects. “It has been foretold.”

“That’s not possible. The prophesy spoke not of a girl child. Toss them again.”

The crone gathered up the small bones, placing them back in the cup. With a shake of her wrist, she mixed the bones then tossed them again onto the table beside the infant. “It spoke neither of a boy child,” she said as the bones came to rest in an identical pattern as before. Her fingers traced each bone. “It has been foretold.”

“This cannot be.”

“The bones of our ancestors do not lie. This cup is carved from the Tree of Truth,” the seer said as she gathered up the bones and placed them back inside the cup. “This is the child.”

“Unwrap her swaddling. I want to see her mark.”

Hands twisted from age that few ever attained carefully unwrapped the blanket to reveal a female child no more than a few minutes old. With gentleness not expected from one so old, the crone rolled the infant over to reveal a birthmark on the small of her back.

“She bears the mark of Oneida. The House of Oneida has served the realm with great honor.”

A nurse entered the room. She carried her bundle to the table and laid it beside the baby. “Another child,” the nurse says before leaving the room.

“Toss the bones.”

The crone did as she was requested then her fingers traced the new pattern. “This child is of no consequence.”

“Have it removed,” the man says, waving his hand to dismiss the second newborn. Then he reached inside his robe, removing a dagger from the sheath on his belt.

“Wait,” the man beside him said, placing a restraining hand on his arm. “Leave us, Crone.”

“What can this child do for us, Kala?” the man asked after the seer had shuffled out of the room.

“Do you not see, Micah? The first child is a threat to the Realm of Arhdahl.”

“Agreed. It must be killed. But the second child…?”

“What is its mark?”

Micah placed his dagger on the table then uncovered the baby. “The House of Alisdair.”

“The Protectors. How fitting.”

“I see not why this is of relevance. The child must die, Kala, to protect the realm.”

“No. To kill the child does not stop the prophesy.”

“Then what are we to do?”

“Send the child where it will not pose a threat.”

“This mother is from the House of Oneida. Surely, the child will grow to hear of the prophesy.”

“Yes. If the child was to grow there. But if the child was to grow within the House of Alasdair, the farthest fortress from Arhdahl…”

Micah studied the babies. “Will the mothers not realize?”

“They brought here as soon as they left their mothers’ wombs. They will not know.”

“Are you sure, Kala? The prophesy… With the birth of the child shall comes the death of the realm.”

“The child will grow…” Kala pointed at the second infant. “That child will grow as the child of the prophesy. It can do nothing.”

Micah pondered the solution Kala was suggesting. “The crone knows the truth.”

“She cannot see. She knows only two children were born. One of the House of Oneida. One other. She knows not which child is which.”

Daidam looked up from her lessons. She preferred to spend her days outside and having to endure hours inside the classroom studying ancient parchments was definitely not to her liking. But this was her sixth summer and, like the other children of the House of Alasdair, she had begun the training required of all fortress guards. Resigned to her immediate fate, she returned to her studies. But only after offering a silent wish for the afternoon to arrive quickly when it would be time for the daily lessons to switch to the outdoors. She looked up again when a shout was heard from the fortress gate.

“Thoralf of the House of Alasdair has returned from Arhdahl Fortress. She brings her child, blessed by the crone.”

Daidam pushed her chair back from her desk and ran to the window, along with the other children, to watch the possession file through the gate. Her father had been one of the guards to accompany Thoralf to the realm’s main fortress. It was a long walk to Arhdahl and, even to her young eyes, her father looked tired as he marched into the square with the others. She turned away from the window. “Instructor, may I go to my father?” she asked politely.

“Yes. Yes, you may all go. Their journey has been long. They will welcome your greetings of return.”

Daidam ran for the door, reaching it before any of her classmates. She didn’t stop running until she was beside her father. “Welcome, Father. You have been missed,” she said as she fell into step with him. The guard would escort Thoralf and her new child all the way to her family quarters.

“Thank you, Daidam. Are your studies going well?”

“Yes, Father. But I miss being outdoors.”

He laughed. “Yes, like me you are. How is your mother?”

“She waits for your return.”

“She is well?”

“Yes. Her belly has grown large.”

He sighed. “Then I will be returning to Arhdahl soon.” He looked down to see the look of disappointment on his daughter’s face. “But that is for another day. Today, I greet my daughter and wife. And tonight we celebrate with Thoralf and Ceancey. A child has been born to the House of Alasdair. A fine healthy daughter.”

“What is her name, Father?”

“Milas. It is a good name, a strong name. Just like Daidam. You will both serve the House of Alasdair well.”

Daidam smiled with pride. “Just like you, Father.”

CHAPTER TWO

Sixteen summers later

Daidam stood beside the head of her bunk rummaging about in one of the nooks carved into the stone wall of the barracks. After a few moments, she pulled a strip of cloth free and sat on her bunk. Crossing her leg to rest her calf on her other knee, she set about cleaning her dusty boots.

“No purpose to rub them, Daidam. They’ll be dusty again before you reach the end of the family quarters.”

Daidam didn’t look up from her work to answer the man sitting at one of the tables on the other side of the barracks. “A rub of cloth might do your boots some good, Chaca,” she told the man playing a game of chance with three others.

“Ah, but is it not a sign of a good Protector to have dusty boots? Do they not belong to one who has completed patrol?” The soldier smiled raising a dirty boot into the air then slamming it down on the stone floor, a cloud of dust rising in its wake.

One of the other men at the table waved a hand in front of his face as the dust cloud spread. “I see it has been decided who will sweep out the barracks this eve.” Daidam smiled at the Captain of the Guard’s pronouncement. “Daidam speaks true, Chaca. Your boots are dirty whether you leave on patrol or return. A good rub would not harm them.”

“Aye, Captain,” the man said nodding. “I shall do as you say just as soon as I win this round.”

The captain tossed a pair of flat stones on the table, one side of each stone was colored red, the other side blue. He laughed when the stones came to rest with both red sides hidden. “This eve does not suit you, Chaca. Slacy!” he announced then slapped the table with his hand.

Daidam stood and snapped the cloth a few times to shake the dirt from it. After all, she would not be sweeping the floor. She tossed the cloth back into the nook then took a final look into the polished stone mirror beside the nook. She adjusted her pants until the strips down their sides were perfectly straight. Then she tugged on her tunic’s hem around her waist, straightening the cloth on her shoulders. Satisfied, she grasped her spear and turned away. To either side of her, a row of bunks stretched to the ends of the barracks while the opposite side of the room was occupied by groupings of tables and chairs where the guards took their meals or spent endless hours playing Slacy when they had no duties to perform.

“The moon shall light your steps this eve, Daidam,” the captain said as she approached.

Daidam nodded. “It is good.”

“I bid you to be extra watchful.”

Daidam smiled. “Aye, Captain. I expect to hear your boot strikes before the dawn.”

Chuckling, the captain stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You have learned well, daughter.” They both looked toward the barrack’s doorway when the guard finishing patrol entered. “Now, go. It is not good to leave the Fortress unprotected.”

Daidam nodded. With steady, sure steps she walked across the stone floor and disappeared outside.

Situated at the very end of a butte towering above all that surrounded it, Alasdair Fortress was the furthest outpost of the Realm of Arhdahl yet it served as its first defense against any threat from the Abyss.

Milas sat on the most prominent point of the cliff buttress, her legs dangling over the rock cliff and her position partially obscured by the stones around her. She had learned that if she sat very still when the guards made their patrols, she would be unseen in the night’s shadows. As had become her habit, she looked down into the Abyss far below at the foot of the butte.

After leaving the barracks, Daidam began her patrol by walking the length of the narrow passage that fronted the various underground cavities where the family quarters were located. She smiled at the familiar sounds coming through the doorways and envisioned her own family quarters- her mother preparing the eve meal and her younger brother studying his parchments in anticipation of their father’s arrival when he would question Kailen on the day’s studies.

Her steps brought her to the end of the passage and she walked up the ramp that would return her to the surface of the butte.

“Daidam?”

She stopped and turned around. “Thoralf? What takes from your family this eve?”

“Have you seen Milas?”

“I have not.”

“She did not return from her studies this day. It will soon be dark.”

“You need not worry. She is almost finished with her studies. Soon, she will be patrol as I.”

“You will watch for her?”

“Aye.”

“Tell her, her eve meal is waiting.”

“Aye.”

“And, her mother worries.”

Daidam smiled. “At the risk of having a boot thrown at me, I will do as you ask, Thoralf.”

“You know my daughter well.”

“None like to hear of a mother’s worry.”

“You speak true. Good eve to you, Daidam.”

“Good eve, Thoralf.”

Thoralf watched her walk to the top of the ramp. “But mothers do worry,” she whispered before returning to her quarters and waiting husband.

“That be truth,” Daidam said, grinning. She turned to her right to walk across the open square in the center of the fortress, the rock surface also serving as ceiling to the quarters and barracks below her feet. Daidam followed a route walked by generations of Protectors before her; never did it occur to her to vary her steps.

After crossing the square, she paused at the Fortress gate formed by two large boulders placed ten strides apart. From each boulder, a deep groove, scraped into the hard stone surface ran in opposite directions toward the butte’s precipices. When the groove came within ten strides of the drop off, it turned to perfectly trace the butte’s contours- never being further or closer to the edge than ten strides. Daidam followed the groove as it encircled the fortress.

Daidam had completed one full loop of the fortress and stood again at the boulder gate. She turned around to reverse her steps. It was now full dark and, to the north of the butte, the moon was shining brightly. She reached the point where the groove turned to follow the precipice. Something caught her eye and she stopped, tightening her hold on her spear as she dropped it into battle position. Peering into the shadows at the very edge of the butte, she saw movement. “Who threatens the House of Alasdair?” she called into the darkness. “Speak true or I’ll alert the Fortress.”

“Don’t. It is Milas.”

“Milas?”

Milas stood and eased away from the cliff. “Yes, Daidam. I pose no threat.”

“You have left the fortress.”

“I stepped beyond the groove, yes. But it is nothing but—”

“It is forbidden.”

Milas moved closer to Daidam. “Why?”

“Why? What do you mean?”

Milas studied the woman standing before her, the toes of her boots barely touching the lip of the groove while her spear extended past it. “Why is it forbidden, Daidam? Why are we not to cross that rut in the stone yet your spear passes over it?” Daidam yanked her spear back until it too was inside the groove. “It is but an imaginary barrier. It serves no real purpose.”

“It is for the protection of the Fortress and of the Realm. It protects us against those that would threaten from the Abyss.”

Milas laughed, sitting on a boulder on the wrong side of the groove. “What threat? Have you ever looked down there?”

Daidam shook her head. “It is forbidden.” She relaxed her grip on her spear. “What is down there, Milas?”

“It is beautiful, Daidam. Trees reach as far as you can see.”

“Trees?”

“Yes. So many it is impossible to count. And there are rivers that flow wide and free.”

“You speak true?”

“Yes.”

“But…” Daidam looked around.

“I look into the Abyss and I wonder why we live on this barren rock? Why we must scrape deep holes into the stone to catch rain water? Why the Realm struggles to survive when down there is everything we hope for.”

“It cannot be.”

“But it is. Come,” Milas said standing and holding out a hand, “I’ll show you.”

Daidam backed away. “No! You must come back. Come back within the Fortress.”

“Please, Daidam.”

“Daidam! What danger have you found?”

Daidam spun around. “Captain, the danger is none. It is Milas, daughter of Thoralf.”

“It cannot be. Milas is of our House.”

“She speaks true,” Milas said toward Daidam and the Captain, intending to step back over the groove.

“No!” the Captain thrust his spear to stop her. “Any found within the forbidden zone must die.” Milas froze at the words.

“Father!”

“Daidam, it is ordered. You must obey.”

“But, Father…”

“Send her back into the Abyss.”

“I cannot. It is Milas, daughter of Thoralf, House of Alasdair.”

“Milas is no more. She entered the forbidden zone.”

Daidam watched in horror as her father thrust his long spear at Milas, driving her back toward the cliff edge.

“My honor for the Realm of Arhdahl,” the captain cried as he stormed toward the groove, his spear thrust out in front of him. Milas back pedaled to the very edge of the precipice, her boots slipping in the loose pieces of stones.

Daidam reached out to stop her father, she grabbed for him as he crossed into the forbidden zone in pursuit of his quarry. But she missed and he charged toward Milas, struggling to maintain her tenuous footing. He made one final thrust. In desperation, Milas grabbed hold of the spear. “Father!” Daidam screamed when both tumbled out of sight.

CHAPTER THREE

Chaca walked across the fortress square beginning his patrol duty. When he heard a shout, he looked to the northern side of the butte and saw someone standing at the cliff’s edge. “Captain of the Guard,” he shouted back over his shoulder as he ran toward the intruder. Skidding to a stop at the groove, he held his spear out in front of him in attack position. He could hear boots striking the ground behind him as others ran across the square in his direction.

“What threatens the fortress?” a female guard asked as she skidded to a stop beside him.

“I know not, Frenah,” Chaca answered. “Captain of the Guard,” he shouted again.

Frenah looked back at the others hurrying toward them. “I do not see him. Why does he not come?”

“He is dead.”

“What say you?” Chaca asked.

Daidam turned to face the others. “He is dead!”

“This cannot be.”

“Daidam?” Kailen called out when he arrived to find his sister in the forbidden zone.

Chaca grabbed Kailen to prevent him from going after his sister. He passed the boy to Frenah then turned his attention back to Daidam. “What have you done? How do you say the Captain is dead?”

“Father is dead?” Kailen exclaimed.

“What of my daughter?” Thoralf asked, pushing her way through the group of guards and others now gathered at the groove. “Daidam, what of Milas?”

For an answer, Daidam shook her head.

“Daidam, come back within the fortress. Tell us what threat you faced this eve,” Thoralf said, reaching her hand out over the groove to the guard.

Chaca pushed Thoralf away. “She has entered the forbidden zone.”

“To protect the fortress. She cannot be punished for that.”

“It is forbidden. Go back to your quarters, woman. The Captain of the Guard will decide her fate.”

“Do you not listen?” Daidam screamed. “He is dead! As is Milas.”

“No!” Thoralf cried.

“Daidam,” Frenah spoke calmly. “You must tell us what threat was faced. Why have two of the House been taken?”

“It was… It shouldn’t have…” Daidam stammered. “Milas… She was… There was no harm.”

Chaca frowned. “Your words make no sense. Tell us true.”

“Milas… I told her to return to the fortress—”

“It is forbidden.”

“Aye,” Daidam said wearily. “Fa… Captain of the Guard forbade her. He… He returned her to the Abyss.”

Chaca nodded approvingly. “He served the Realm.”

“What of Daidam?” Kailen asked.

“She is no more.”

“What say you, Chaca? She stands before our eyes.”

Chaca raised his spear to his shoulder, his action immediately duplicated by the other guards.

Daidam turned around, offering her back as a target. As she waited, she looked down hoping to see some movement that would mean her father or Milas had survived. But the distance was too great. Then her eyes spotted something. It wasn’t movement but an anomaly on the cliff face and not far below her. “Can it be?” she whispered.

“Guards, protect the Realm,” Chaca commanded.

Daidam stepped forward at the same instant the guards thrust their spears.

A wolf trotted along a path that weaved its way through the thick forest. As he rounded a turn, he spotted a fox standing beside the trail. He did not slow his steps as the fox joined him. “You heard?”

“Yes. The cry woke me. It did not sound of one of our own.”

“No. It came from above.”

“The land of the two-leggeds?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think they come again?”

“We shall soon know.” Wolf said as they approached the foot of the butte. The forest faded behind them and the ground became uneven forcing them to move around large boulders that had long ago fallen from the cliff face. “Moose has found them,” he said when he saw the larger animal standing over a crumbled form.

“It’s a two-legged,” Moose said when Wolf and Fox trotted up beside him. Wolf cautiously approached the corpse, sniffing it. “There is no life in this one.”

Fox looked up at the moose towering above her. “This one? Are there others?”

“One. Over there.” Moose turned away to walk closer to the rock wall, his long legs stepping delicately over the rocky ground. Fox trotted ahead of Moose while Wolf continued to examine the lifeless body. “Careful. It still breathes.” Fox skittered around the second body then lowered her head and tip-toed closer. “How is it this one lives?”

“I know not. We must summon Badger.”

Wolf walked over to join the others. “I’ll go.”

“Tell her to bring her medicines.” Wolf nodded then ran back into the forest. “Moose, you must look for others. The two-leggeds deceived us before. We cannot let them do so again.”

“Will you be safe?”

“This one will not hurt me. Go. Make sure the Realm of Airini is safe.” Fox watched the moose trot off then she lay down beside the two-legged. Slowly, her body grew until it was equal in size to the one beside her. She lifted her soft, bushy tail and gently placed it protectively over the injured one. Then resting her head atop her front paws, she prepared for a long night.

Daidam dropped off the ledge, the guards’ spears passing harmlessly over her head to disappear into the Abyss. She braced for the impact she knew would come but still the shock of her boots landing on hard stone sent a jolt up her legs and into her chest. She stood for only a moment before following the path she had seen from above. Working her way down the side of the butte, she sometimes found it necessary to climb over boulders that had fallen from the rock wall or to crawl along stretches where the path narrowed to almost impassible widths. It was almost morn when she reached the bottom and began searching for her father and Milas.

CHAPTER FOUR

When she finally reached the bottom of the butte, Daidam found the end of the path blocked by a field of bones that stretched along the base of the butte for as far as she could see.

“Why have you come down from your esteemed butte?”

Daidam looked to see who had spoken. She saw no one.

“Can you not speak?”

She peered across the bone pile to the forest. The trees stood close together with their thick canopies casting deep shadows. “Aye. But I see none to speak with.” Slowly, a shape took form next to the trunk of one of the larger trees. “What sort of being are you?” Daidam asked when the creature walked into the daylight, not on two legs but four. She grasped her spear firmly as she held it out in front of her.

“I am Coyote,” the animal said as he sat back on his haunches. He cocked his head and studied Daidam. “Do you not know of my kind, two-legged?”

“We know not of the Abyss.”

“The Abyss?”

“This land,” Daidam said sweeping her arm to indicate where they stood and beyond.

The hair on Coyote’s neck bristled. “This is not an abyss. This is the Realm of Airini. You would do well to speak the name with respect.”

“Airini? The name is not known to my ears.”

Coyote lifted a front paw and scratched under his chin. “Sadly, I am not surprised by your declaration. Go back, two-legged. Return to your butte.”

“I cannot. I must find Father. And Milas.”

“There are none of your kind in Airini, two-legged.”

“Why do you call me two-legged? I am Daidam of the House of Alasdair, Protectors of the Realm of Arhdahl. You would do well to speak my name with respect.”

Coyote laughed. “Respect does not come so cheaply, two-legged. Arhdahl means nothing to me but home to those who caused these bones to rest here.”

“I have not time for you,” Daidam said, stepping forward. The loud crack of a breaking bone froze her in place.

Coyote jumped to his feet, his lip curling as he let loose a threatening snarl. “You dare dishonor the sacred bones of the Winged! Fool! Go back!”

“Not without my Father and Milas.” Daidam raised her foot to take another step.

“No! Do not dishonor the Winged.”

Daidam continued and heard another bone snap beneath her foot. Before she could take a third step, a whirlwind arose from the bones and she was lifted off the ground and carried backward until she collided with cliff. The force of the blow knocked the air from her lungs and she collapsed to the ground.

Coyote settled back on his haunches. “You are a fool,” he said when Daidam sat up gasping for breath.

She reached up to rub her shoulder. “I am not,” she said as she struggled back to her feet. On shaky legs, she walked to where her spear lay on the ground and bent down. But instead of picking up the spear, she gently lifted one of the bones. She found it to be delicate and hollow, unlike the heavier and solid bones she knew to be in her own body. She placed it back with the others then picked up one of the strange objects she saw interspersed with the bones—it was long and slender with thin hair-like threads growing from their spines. “The Winged,” she whispered as she examined the feather.

“So you have heard.”

“Once. When I was young.”

Coyote laughed. “You are but a pup now, two-legged.” Daidam’s glare only served to make him laugh louder. “Tell me, two-legged, what did you hear?”

“A whisper.”

“About…?”

“The Winged.”

“What about them?”

“Only their name. It was whispered between two Protectors late one night when the wind blew up the sides of the butte making sounds as if it be more than just wind.” Coyote nodded knowingly. “Who are they? The Winged?”

Coyote sighed. “They are no more. But there was a time when they floated on the wind over Airini. They lived on the cliffs, raising young in the crevasses and caves.”

“What happened to them?”

Coyote thought for a moment. “Do you not know how the two-leggeds came to live on the butte?”

“What do you mean?”

“Go back. Ask your elders what became of the Winged. It is not a story for me to tell.” Coyote stood and stretched his back then turned away from Daidam.

“Wait. Please. I must know of my father. And of Milas.”

Coyote turned back. “What of them?”

“They fell. I must find them.”

“Fell? From up there?” Coyote asked, looking up to the top of the butte. “None but the Winged could survive such a fall.”

“Please.”

“Go back. You have no place in Airhini.”

Daidam tentatively moved toward the pile of bones but stopped when a sudden gust of wind blew against her. Dejectedly, she turned around and returned to the foot of the butte. She walked toward the path but was startled to discover it no longer existed. “Wait,” she called to Coyote who was entering the forest. “Where did it go?”

Coyote looked back over his shoulder to see Daidam shuffling along the rock face, her hands searching for the missing gap in the stone. He turned and trotted back toward her. “What of the path that led you here?”

“Speak not,” Daidam cried in frustration, “less you offer help.”

“Very well,” Coyote said and turned back for the forest.

“Don’t go. Please.” Daidam’s shoulders sagged as she spoke. “I intrude into your land not to dishonor. I seek only to return my father to Alasdair Fortress. To my mother and brother who moan him. And Milas to her mother, Thoralf, who cries her loss.”

Coyote sighed then trotted back to stand opposite Daidam. “You ask much.”

“Aye.”

“Come.”

“But the bones…”

“There,” Coyote gestured with his head and Daidam looked to see a series of rocks stretching from one side of the bone field to the other. “The stones rise above the Winged. Step cautiously.” Daidam followed Coyote’s instructions, carefully placing her boots in the center of each stone so as not to chance touching any of the bones that surrounded them. She did not dare to breathe until she stood beside Coyote. “Let us go,” Coyote said then he led her into the forest.

CHAPTER FIVE

Fox lifted her head and sniffed the air. “Wolf returns,” she said as she gently swept her tail off the two-legged sleeping beside her. She arched her back which lengthened as she stretched first one hind leg then the other. Then she stood and waited while her body returned to its normal size. Wolf trotted into the clearing. “Good morn, Wolf.”

“Is the two-legged dead?” Wolf asked of Milas, lying on the ground. Her position unchanged from the last he had seen her.

“No. She sleeps. Did you bring Badger?”

“For what good, I know not. The two-legged is but a threat to the Realm.”

“Wolf, you are too suspicious.”

Badger entered the clearing, her body lumbering along the ground on short legs. A coat of brown-gray hair hung on loose skin hiding the muscular body underneath. Furry ears sat on opposite sides of a wide head that narrowed down to a sharp snout. A strip of dark fur lined the top of her eyes and continued down her face before disappearing into the white fur covering the bottom of her chin and belly. And two sharp fang shaped teeth hung from her mouth matching the sharp claws adorning each of her feet. “How is it the two-legged still lives, Fox? The fall should have ended her breath.”

“Her will is strong.”

“Her will or yours?” Badger asked as she approached Milas.

“I helped not,” Fox responded, moving out of Badger’s way.

Badger shuffled around Milas, sniffing and prodding her with her snout. After she had circled her completely, Badger gently laid her head down on Milas’ chest. “Her heart beats strong,” she said moments lately after raising her head. She turned to face Fox and Wolf. “My medicines can do not for her. She—”

“Why do you call the two-legged she?” Wolf asked. “They are not like us with both male and female.”

Badger laughed. “Wolf, you listen to the old fables too much. Two-leggeds are more like us than different. This is a female, same as me.”

Wolf walked up beside Milas. “How tell you?” he asked, his head lowered to almost touching her as he examined the prone figure.

“Please, do not harm her,” Daidam shouted as she ran toward Milas, having just followed Coyote out of the forest.

Wolf reacted instantly, spinning around to face Daidam. Lips curled back and fangs displayed, he snarled at the intruder. “Coyote, you dare to bring another two-legged into the Realm?” he growled, his ears laying flat against his head.

Coyote positioned himself between Daidam and Wolf. “Stand down, Wolf. I found the two-legged at the bones of the Winged.”

“How did you come to be there?” Fox asked Daidam, ignoring the snarling Wolf who continued to glare at the two-legged.

“I followed a path from the bluff.”

“Path? What path?” Wolf asked. “I know of no path. The two-legged does speak true. We must destroy them both.” He lunged toward Daidam.

“No!” Badger shouted. “Wolf, stand down!” She rumbled up to Daidam. “Tell me of this path.”

“I know not of it before it appeared to my eyes. I saw it just as…”

“Just as what?”

“Just as Chaca ordered the guards to kill me.”

“For what crime?”

“For entering the forbidden zone.”

“Forbidden zone? The two-legged speaks nonsense.”

Badger turned and glared at Wolf. “Hush,” she hissed then turned back to Daidam. “The path, tell me of the path.”

“It hung to the side of the bluff, winding its way downward into the Abyss.” Coyote growled. “Airhini,” she quickly corrected.

“If you came down, why did you not return the same?”

“It is no more.”

“What?” Wolf laughed. “More nonsense.”

“Hush.”

“Can you not hear as I?” Wolf approached Badger. “The two-legged speaks nonsense. It must be a trick.”

“Hush. You do not know the stories from old as I do,” Badger admonished Wolf. “Tell me, two-legged, what became of the path?”

“It vanished. It is no more.”

Badger looked to Coyote for verification. “Is it so?”

“I saw it not.”

“I must consider these words,” Badger told the others then turned and rumbled back into the forest.

“Do you know of my father?” Daidam asked.

“Father?” Wolf huffed. “Male, like me? That is him, there.”

Daidam turned to look where Wolf indicated. “Father!” she cried seeing the crumbled body. She ran to her father and fell down beside him. Cradling him in her arms, she gazed on the father that was no more. “I will miss you Father. May you serve the Realm well.”

“Realm? What Realm?” Wolf asked. “Two-leggeds do not serve the Realm of Airini.”

Daidam gently laid her father back down before answering. “He is Captain of the Guard, House of Alasdair, Guardians of the Realm of Arhdahl,” she said proudly.

“He is dead,” Wolf grunted, unimpressed.

“He serves the Realm… still.”

“He is still dead,” Wolf muttered as he sat back. “As should you all.”

“Milas lives?”

“Milas? Is that how you call this two-legged?” Fox asked.

Cautiously, Daidam skirted around Wolf. “Yes. Her name is Milas,” she told Fox.

“And your… name?”

“I am Daidam. How is she?”

“She breathes.”

Daidam dropped to her knees beside Milas and gently placed a hand against her cheek. “How can this be?”

“It cannot,” Wolf muttered.

“Perhaps,” Coyote whispered, “she has powers you know not.”

to be continued...

Chapter One	Chapter Two	Chapter Three	Chapter Four	Chapter Five